


Even The Wrong Words Seem To Rhyme

by ununoriginal



Category: NewS (Band)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Future, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-11
Updated: 2009-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ununoriginal/pseuds/ununoriginal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine years on, and the roles have changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even The Wrong Words Seem To Rhyme

**Author's Note:**

> Randomly inspired by Howie Day's 'Collide'.

He's dozing in the window seat, head and neck tilted awkwardly against the glass pane, when the ring tone of his mobile shatters the calm laziness of the afternoon.  Jerking up, the book that has been precariously suspended upon his lap under a careless arm slides off its perch in a flurry of pages.    
  
“Shit!”  
  
The book gets swooped from the floor and carefully inspected for folds or creases, while in the background the phone continues its plaintive ring.  By the time he's satisfied with the reasonably pristine condition of his book, his caller has given up and it's peacefully quiet when he picks up his phone.    
  
The way the light from the mobile's screen glares at him makes him realise that it's actually more evening than afternoon and he uncurls from his seat, stretching and popping a few joints as he hits the call button and brings the phone to his ear.  
  
Shige picks up within three rings, swift as always.  
  
“Hey, you woke me up!”  
  
Shige's unrepentant chuckle travels down the connection.  “Surprising as it may be, some of us actually just got off work.”  
  
“Ah, whatever.”  He pushes the window further open, letting in the cooler breeze as he watches the wisps of purple-pink clouds staining the horizon.  “What's up?”  
  
“Dinner?  Usual place?  I've got tonight and the whole of tomorrow morning off.”  
  
For a moment, his mind pauses.    
  
He reckons he should be used to it by now, but there are still instants like these when the reversal in roles hits him suddenly with renewed surreality.  
  
“Ryo?”  
  
And then it passes with Shige's familiar voice, questioning.  
  
“Yeah, sorry.  Still waking up,” he mumbles while making his way to the bedroom to put on something more appropriate for public viewing consumption.  “When will you get here?”  
  
He hears Shige's mouse-clicking in the background.  “I'm just shutting down everything,” Shige says semi-distractedly.  “Be out here in five, so... twenty minutes?”  
  
“Right, see you.”  
  
Shige hangs up and Ryo tosses his phone on the bed, quickly changing into t-shirt and jeans.  Going out into the living room again, he lounges on the couch, rereading with greater alertness the few pages where the lines had started blurring earlier.  
  
*  
  
Shige pulls up at the front lobby of Ryo's apartment building, exactly twenty minutes later, smiling at Ryo as he gets into the passenger seat.  
  
“So what are you reading now?” Shige asks as they turn out of the driveway, his eyes on the traffic zooming past in trails of red and orange.    
  
“Soseki.”  
  
“Let me guess,” Shige remarks dryly.  “Since a book's been missing from my apartment lately... _'Wagahai Ha Neko De Aru'_?”  
  
“You really aren't a genius for nothing, Kato-san,” Ryo retorts with a touch of smugness.  “Why bother to buy when I can so much more easily borrow?  And I figured you could give me some unique insights that will totally impress my professor.”  
  
“And this does not strike you as slothful plagiarism in any way,” Shige deadpans.  
  
“Have no fear – I'm not going to quote you word for word,” Ryo says reassuringly.    
  
“I feel so much better now.”    
  
He laughs when Ryo smacks his arm lightly.    
  
“I still find it incredible to believe you're a literature student now.” Shige speaks into the easy silence that descends after a while.  
  
Ryo shrugs indifferently.  “After all these years, I still don't really sleep much and there has to be something for me to fill up the extra hours.  I find it incredible to believe you guys had a betting pool going on about whether I was even going to get in!”  
  
“That was totally Tegoshi's idea.  He was hanging out too much with Koki at the time.”  
  
Ryo shoots Shige a suspicious look.  “But you were the one who took home the winnings.”  
  
“Well, yes, for one thing, none of the others really paid proper attention to how the bet was worded, and secondly, I was coaching you for the entrance exams.”  
  
“Sneaky lawyer bastard.”  Ryo pokes Shige's shoulder.  
  
“Hey, didn't I split the winnings with you?”  
  
“Yep, but you're still sneaky.”  
  
*  
  
Whatever Shige meant to say gets mangled by his enormous yawn as they start in on the after-dinner drinks.  
  
“Long day?”  
  
“You know how it's like.  It's barely three days since Yamada's debacle – we're still busy doing damage control.”  Shige sighs as he rubs his left temple, feeling secure enough in their booth tucked away at the back corner of the restaurant to finally vent a little.  
  
Ryo makes a sympathetic noise and tops up Shige's sake glass.  “What's going to happen to him?”  
  
“It's not been decided yet, right now the focus is mainly on getting the magazine to retract the article, which is going to be like squeezing blood from stone since they have more than enough witnesses who're willing to share their two cents.”  Shige throws back his alcohol with a disgusted huff.  “It's going to be hard to tell if the revenue from their latest single is enough to keep everyone's mouths shut.”  
  
Ryo watches Shige's careworn expression and idly thinks that the other man said he'd wanted to be a novelist, all those years ago.  
  
Shige slumps bonelessly in his seat, letting out his breath in an exaggerated whine.  “Ah...!  Why couldn't the mess have been something simpler?  Like, say, a traffic accident?”  
  
Underneath the table, Ryo kicks him hard.  
  
*  
  
When he exits the kitchen with two glasses of water, it's to see Shige sprawled lengthwise across his couch, ankles propped on one arm rest and head thrown back against the other, the top two buttons of his shirt undone.  Shige's tie trails a dark silver-grey line from the loose curl of his right hand while the other is still resting carefully over the book that's propped on his chest.  
  
Quietly, Ryo sets down the glasses he's holding and gently plucks the novel from Shige's grasp.    
  
The movement stirs the younger man and he blinks heavily.  “Sorry, did I fall asleep?” he asks, voice even more raspy than usual from drunken exhaustion.  
  
“Yeah, your back will kill you in the morning if you stay like this.  Come on, get up and go sleep in the room.”  
  
Shige heaves himself into sitting and knuckles his eyes.  “But we're supposed to be spicing up your assignment.”  He makes a half-hearted gesture at the book Ryo left on the coffee table.  “Plus I should go.  Still have work tomorrow..”  
  
Ryo scoffs.  “I can impress the teachers all by myself.”  He grabs Shige's wrist and pulls him up, turning Shige's unresisting form towards the bedroom.  “And you've obviously forgotten that I was the one who drove the both of us back here.”  He makes a show of hanging on to Shige's car keys.  “Go change, then sleep.”  
  
“Fine, your loss,” Shige capitulates, stifling his yawns as he shuffles off.  “Your essay would have been that much more memorable.”  
  
Ryo keeps his eyes on Shige until Shige stumbles through the doorway, then goes take a quick shower himself.  He putters around a bit more, sorting out the books and magazines on his table, placing them in neat stacks, making sure his notebook is next to the laptop so he will remember to transcribe his ideas into digital form sometime tomorrow.  
  
Shige curled around one of the extra pillows, back towards the door, but he turns over when the mattress dips in response to Ryo's weight.  His eyes open a bare slit under his mussed hair.  “Ryo...” he breathes on an exhalation, and Ryo can't tell whether the younger man is asleep or awake.  
  
Shige buries his nose into the pillow he's hugging, snuggling under the covers, and Ryo slowly lets out the breath he's holding.  
  
*  
  
He opens his eyes to the even rise and fall of Shige's rounded shoulders, the same view that lulled him to sleep hours ago.  Shige's still dead to the world, sleeping the oblivious slumber of the freshly overworked.  The sun's stolen its way into the room, bringing incremental warmth with it, and the covers have been gradually shrugged back, revealing Shige's face.  
  
The slanting rays brush across the lower half of his left cheek still freshly imprinted with the wrinkled creases of the pillow case.  The faint hints of stubble outlining his jaw appear translucent.  The rest of his features are shadowed from the backlight, his hair obscuring one eye.  Ryo barely makes out the soft curve of Shige's mouth, lips slightly parted.  
  
Shige's arm lies in the space between them, elbow bent, the fingers in their relaxed curl barely an inch away from Ryo's chest.  His own fingertips are pressed against the smooth skin of Shige's forearm.  He watches as his thumb rubs slow tiny circles over the paleness, drowsing in the languid calm between sleep and waking, where the seconds turn into minutes and hours.  
  
Eventually one of the sunbeams creeps forward enough to dazzle him into greater wakefulness and carefully, gently, he pulls away.    
  
He lies flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling until he realises that his alarm hasn't sounded yet.  A glance tells him that he's half an hour early but he gets up anyway.  He'll spend the extra time running through the script in preparation for the drama rehearsal he's having later in the day.  
  
There's coffee and aspirin and Shige's car keys on the dining room table; the alarm clock reset for two hours later, volume turned up and placed closer to Shige.  Ryo quietly shuts his front door and heads for the elevator.  
  
In the dimness of the bedroom, curtains now drawn tight so the sun's brightness merely batters at thick fabric, Shige never stirs.


End file.
